“Ain’t a Power in the Verse”
by HobbitNinja
Summary: Post Serenity. Mal and the gang find themselves in trouble again. 1st chapter of an ongoing story. Please R&R.


Disclaimer: I do not own Firefly.

This is my 1st FanFic. Please R&R.

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"Ain't a Power in the Verse..."

CHAPTER ONE...

The moment Malcolm Reynolds awoke, no, the moment he _came to_, he instantly knew three things. One, his head hurt somethin' awful. Two, somewhere, a ways off, bells were ringing. And most importantly three, them blasted bells were makin' his head hurt that much worse. He tried to sit up. Blinding white lights flashed before his eyes and he laid back down.

Bad idea. Ok. Where am I?

He may not be able to sit up just yet, but rolling his pounding head to one side seemed to be a feasible option.

Hmm, walls...dirty walls, dirt floor, no sign of a door or any windows from this vantage point... what the hell happened? Why won't those blasted bells stop ringing? Where was Zoe? Jane? Even Jane's ugly gorram face would be a welcome sight just now...

Fallon! That rutting... gorram... chusheng zajiao de zanghuo!...This was Fallon's fault, all of it: The "cell," the splitting headache, hell, maybe even the bells for all Mal knew. Why in the verse did I bring that weasely little runt on my ship? Ok...well, there was the whole, he paid a lot of money thing, but damnit all... I shoulda known...

Mal tried to think, to remember, what did he miss? How did he not see this one coming? Was the need to keep _Serenity_ flying beginning to interfere with his judgment? Probably. Not like it was the first time either. Considering his current predicament, he hoped it wouldn't end up being the last.

No, can't think that way... there's no knowing about the rest of the crew. Zoe's probably on her way with a daring, yet effective, rescue even now...anytime now she'll bust through the door...anytime now...any...time now...Or maybe I'll just lie here a bit longer...have a little nap, naps are good...yep, little nap, so I'll be all rested and ready when they get here...

Somewhere out of his sight, and by the sound of it, roughly from the direction his head was pointing as he lay there, came the grating of rusty hinges as a door swung open. Booted feet marched in, and presently a man came into view, peering down at Mal with a look of contempt. He was average sized, about Mal's own height and build, close cropped brown hair, and a small scar below his left eye. He had the reek of a military man. Mal lolled his head so he could look directly up at him.

"You're not Zoe."

The man kicked Mal none too gently in the side, which, of course, Mal figured he would do. Captain Reynolds now knew the he wasn't permanently damaged because he could feel the searing pain in his ribs flare throughout his inert body. The knowledge had been costly, but definitely worth it. He just hoped he had enough strength to fight when the time came. Out loud he said,

"Ow. Guess it's good you ain't Zoe. She kicks _much_ harder..."

The scowling man drew his heavy boot back, ready to have a harder go at the wisecracking prisoner when a voice from someone Mal could not see stopped him mid kick.

"Cutter, Ba! Liu da."

The man Mal now knew and loved as "Cutter" made a disgruntled sort of noise and stalked out of Mal's sight, presumably leaving the room. He heard more boot steps, these much lighter, not as though the person was smaller, but that he carried himself differently. The image of a prowling lion came to mind. This new arrival paced the room almost silently, careful to stay out of Mal's limited range of vision. His voice was deep when he spoke, but smooth and sweet, like molasses.

"You are an interesting man Mr. Reynolds."

"Oh, that's just 'cuz you don't know me very well."

"On the contrary, Captain, I know very much about you. Which brings me to my first question. What possible madness could drive a man such as yourself to ally with trash like Darion Fallon?"

"Ally? No no, I think maybe you over exaggerate our arrangement... I'm just a simple man, flies a simple ship what takes on simple haulin' jobs...ain't my business to go askin loads a questions of my passengers. Those what can pay their way and what don't cause no trouble..."

"It seems to me Captain, and I apologize for the interruption, but it sure does seem to me, that _this here_ constitutes trouble. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Well by golly, I do believe you are correct. In fact, as soon as I use your facilities, you don't mind if I use your facilities, I'll be on my way to locate our mutual acquaintance Mr. Fallon. I mean to have some serious..._serious_ words with that _hun dan_..."

"Unfortunately, Captain, I'm afraid your stay with us must be extended a bit longer. You see, I am not quite satisfied that you aren't in league with our Mr. Fallon. I truly hope that you are not...truly. That would be most regrettable. For you."

Mal heard another set of boot steps approach. They stopped at the door.

"Ah, Cutter is back. I believe he has some more questions he would like to ask of you. Please do yourself a favor and answer them truthfully and promptly."

Cutter chuckled. It was a terrifying sound. The unmistakable whisper of a blade kissing the air as it is unsheathed prickled Mal's skin. Cutter leaned down from above Mal's head, a very wicked looking knife in his hand.

"You don't gotta answer _too_ promptly...that just wouldn't be any fun at all."

Mal tensed, his already throbbing muscles burned in protest.

"Ta ma de. You know, that _really_ isn't necessary Cutter...kinda startin to figure where that shiny name comes from..."

The sound of the other man's steps, the smooth talking lion, receded from the dank room, the rusty hinged door creaked its way ponderously shut, clanging closed with a disconcerting finality, and Mal was alone with the one they call Cutter...

TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
